Get Shorty Page #15

Okay, he turns and walks down the aisle now to the bank of

lockers three high where C-18 is just about in the middle.

He looks both ways, takes his time until a group of people

pass behind, giving him a screen, giving him just time

enough to open C-17, grab the black athletic bag, and close

the locker.

Chili gets about ten yards down the aisle, heading for

daylight, when a BLACK GUY IN A SUIT comes towards him and

stops right in his path . . .

BLACK GUY/CURTIS

Excuse me, sir . . .

Now there's a BIG GUY IN A PLAID WOOL SHIRT next to him, the

same guy we saw when Bo Catlett was here. And Christ,

ANOTHER GUY now, this one down the aisle, talking on his

hand radio. The Black Guy has his I.D. folder open . . .

BLACK GUY/CURTIS

Curtis. Drug Enforcement. These are Agents Dunbar and

Morgan, would you come with us, please?

CHILI:

What's wrong? What's this about?

Agent Curtis turns and starts off

DUNBAR:

Let's follow him and behave ourselves. What do you say?

As Chili walks off with the D.E.A. guys we see . . .

RAY BONES:

Coming out one of the gates. He looks at A GUY holding a

square piece of cardboard that reads MR. BARBONE.

GUY:

Mr. Barbone? Welcome to L.A. I'm Bobby, your driver. You

have a good flight?

RAY BONES:

(starts walking)

I hope you drive better than you f***ing spell, jackoff. My

name's Barboni, not Bar-bone.

As Ray Bones then walks off, we see coming out a different

gate . . .

THREE COLOMBIANS

All in dark suits. Two big guys in sunglasses flanking one

smaller, older guy . . .

BIG GUY:

You want to go to the hotel first, Mr. Escobar?

MR. ESCOBAR

I want to get my focking money.

INT. SMALL AIRPORT OFFICE -- DAY

Chili stands there while Curtis opens Chili's wallet and

looks at the driver's license while Dunbar in the plaid

shirt pulls the Lakers T-shirt out of the athletic bag,

feels around inside. The agents glance at each other without

giving any kind of sign.

CURTIS:

You live in Miami?

CHILI:

That's right.

CURTIS:

What're you doing in Los Angeles?

CHILI:

I'm in the movie business.

CURTIS:

You're an investor, is that it?

CHILI:

I'm a producer.

CURTIS:

You have a card in here?

CHILI:

Not yet. I just started.

Chili watches Curtis pick up the note with the Newark Flight

number and arrival time written on it.

CHILI:

I'd appreciate your telling me what this is about.

MORGAN:

I got a John Doe warrant here. I can strip-search you if I

want.

CURTIS:

Pat him down.

MORGAN:

Why don't I strip-search him.

CURTIS:

Pat him down.

The big guy puts Chili against the wall.

MORGAN:

Spread your legs.

CURTIS:

What're you doing at the airport?

CHILI:

I was supposed to meet my wife, but she wasn't on the

flight.

DUNBAR:

Why, you live in Miami, was your wife coming from Newark?

CHILI:

We had a fight and she left me, went back to Brooklyn. I

asked her to come out here, you know, thinking with a change

of scenery maybe we could get back together, and she said

okay, but evidently she changed her mind.

CURTIS:

Your wife a Lakers fan?

CHILI:

I am. I'm a fan of everything that's L.A. I love it out

here.

He looks over his shoulder to the give the guy a smile.

Curtis doesn't return it.

CURTIS:

You can go.

Chili moves to the table to collect his things. Curtis

watches him then . . .

CURTIS:

By the way, you recall the number of the locker you used?

CHILI:

It was C . . . I don't know, sixteen or seventeen, one of

those. Why? You looking for anyway, a bomb or something?

CURTIS:

Something shouldn't be there.

CHILI:

Why don't you get the attendant to open all the lockers and

take a look. Maybe you'll find it.

CURTIS:

That's the idea. I'll think about it.

CHILI:

That's what I'd do.

(looks right at Curtis)

Make sure I got the right guy next time.

CURTIS:

Get him out've here.

EXT. FREEWAY -- DAY

The usual L.A. traffic. A black caddy in the middle of it.

INT. CADDY -- SAME TIME

As Ray Bones looks out a tinted window at the freeway.

BOBBY:

You ever wanta go to the beach, here's the freeway you take

we're coming to.

RAY BONES:

I live in Miami and you want to show me a f***in' beach? The

sun ever come out here, or you have this smog all the time?

BOBBY:

They say the smog's the reason we have such beautiful

sunsets.

RAY BONES:

That's what they say, huh? What a buncha f***in' bullshit.

EXT. AIRPORT PARKING STRUCTURE -- DAY

Chili glances about, makes sure no one's around, then pulls

the key for the 'right' locker out from a crack in the

pavement, near the stairwell. He then goes up the stairs to

EXT. AIRPORT PARKING STRUCTURE -- DAY

ANOTHER LEVEL:

where the Bear, in his trademark Hamaiian shirt is standing

beside Chili's car. He straightens up as Chili exits the

stairwell and walks up to him.

CHILI:

I don't know how I could've missed you with that shirt on.

It's the same as the other one you had only the hibiscus are

a different color. Right?

BEAR:

So you didn't have the key with you.

CHILI:

You think I'd be standing here? You set somebody up and you

want it to work, it has to be a surprise. Can you remember

that?

BEAR:

You spotted them, huh?

Chili looks at him, the guy's either dumb or making

conversation.

CHILI:

What, did you see it work in some movie you got beat up in?

BEAR:

I have to ask you for that key.

CHILI:

What, the setup didn't work so you want the key back?

BEAR:

Catlett says if you don't open the locker the deal's off.

CHILI:

You serious? This is how you guys do business? I can't

believe you aren't dead.

The Bear keeps staring, but doesn't say anything.

CHILI:

Look, there's no f***in' way I'm gonna give you the key,

outside of you point a gun at my head. Then we might have

something to talk about. Now step away from the car.

BEAR:

I don't need a gun. Where is it? If it isn't on you, it's

around here someplace.

Chili shakes his head, tired of this, but still feeling a

little sorry for the guy. He looks off in a kind of

thoughtful way, turns to the Bear again and kicks him in the

left knee, hard.

The Bear stumbles, hunching over. Chili grabs him by the

hair with both hands, pulls his head down and brings his own

knee up into the guy's face. This straightens him and now

Chili hits him high in the belly as hard as he can, right

under the rib cage.

The Bear sucks air with his mouth open trying to breathe,

helpless now and in pain. Chili takes him by the arm . . .

CHILI:

Lie down on your back. Come on, if you want to breathe.

He gets the Bear down on the concrete, straddles his

midsection and reaches down to lift him up by the waist of

his pants.

CHILI:

Take deep breaths through your mouth and let it out slow . .

. that's it, like that.

The Bear starts to breathe okay again. He checks his teeth

now, feeling his nose . . .

CHILI:

Hey, Bear, look at me.

The Bear looks at him.

CHILI:

Tell your boss I don't ever want to see him again. He made a

deal with Harry and a deal's a deal.

The Bear nods, dosing and opening his eyes.

CHILI:

What're you hanging around with a guy like that for? You

were in the movies, right? A stuntman? What's he ever done

he can talk about? You feel okay?

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